Requiem for Brady

I saw it coming. I saw it when Brady first came to live next door. My neighbor, who is a strange fellow himself, had a German shepherd when I moved into my house. One hot August day, the dog died and the flies were terrible. I had to call my neighbor and tell him that his dog was dead on the concrete that was his back yard. I prayed that he would not get another dog. He only comes out once a day to give the dog fresh water, his once daily meal, and to scoop up the poop that has inevitably been sitting there for a very long time. In summer, I pray for rain to wash away the stench of excrements. But Brady, a new German shepherd pup came to live next door, and immediately all the neighbors came to pay attention to him, since he got so little from his owner. Toys and treats came from all around the neighborhood. Brady was a good watch dog. He was quiet except when intruders walked down the alley. He knew his neighbors and appreciated the attention lavished on him, even for just a brief few minutes. He often contentedly watched me work in the garden. He knew that after I took the trash to the alley we would have an up close and personal visit. But a life time of living on concret got to his hips, a curse of large dogs. He started to limp. He started to do his business too close to the house. I could see his deterioration would bring his demise. And now he is gone. The back yard seems more lifeless than the winter would normally have wrought. I just hope there is not another victim.